The Coach House Read Free Page A

pulled out a chair for her at one of the small café-style tables and watched her sweep in the back of her dress with her hands when she eased into the chair, exposing the shape of her behind.
    “Cream and sugar?” he breathed as he placed his hat on the table.
    He went to the counter to place their order. When he walked back toward her, she traced his gaze to her long slim legs, which she had crossed under the glass tabletop. For the second time that morning, Marie felt the warmth of a flush rising up her neck and face.
    He leaned in, his forearms resting on the table. “I would like to start out by confessing that I didn’t invite you here to talk about your window display. My motives are completely and shamelessly ulterior,” he admitted. The gleam in his eyes and inescapable smile set the tone for their chance meeting.
    “What exactly did you have in mind then?” she asked in a curious tone as she checked out his flawless haircut and perfectly knotted silk tie. She appreciated a man who took an interest in how he looked.
    “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said without flinching.
    Her eyes flashed big for an instant, and then her head made a small jerk backward. Just then the waitress brought their beverages, and Marie was grateful for the few seconds it gave her to think of a response. Her brain told her not so fast, although her heart was delightfully seduced.
    “But I don’t even know you.”
    “But you could get to know me over dinner,” he appealed.
    She hesitated before responding. “No. I don’t think so.” She looked down toward her tea cup, taking notice of his sharply creased pants and polished wingtip shoes through the glass tabletop. “I don’t know anything about you.”
    “Well now, that’s true. That’s very true.” He sipped his coffee. “But I can change that.” He leaned back in his chair. “My name is Richard Marchetti. I’m twenty-four-years old and single. I sell medical equipment.” The more he revealed about himself, the faster he spoke. “I’ve never been in any trouble with the law. I go to church regularly…well, maybe not that regularly. I shower every day, sometimes twice, and I like to cook.” He paused for a few seconds. “I live in a small, but nice apartment in Little Italy, next to an Italian restaurant where they have the best veal Parmesan you will ever taste in your life.” Another pause. “I’m a Sagittarius, and my most prized possession is a 1936 Auburn Boattail Speedster…dark blue convertible with a tan interior.” He heaved an exhaustive sigh, sat back in his chair, and looked at her with a placid expression.
    Marie shook her head and twisted her lips, trying to hold back a smile. She sat up a little straighter in her chair and took a sip of tea. “That’s all very interesting, but it’s still not that much information.”
    “What else would you like to know? I have nothing to hide.”
    She tried to think of something definitive he hadn’t revealed, but it was hard on such short notice. “You left out, uh…your favorite color.” She wondered if that sounded as stupid to him as it did to her.
    He searched her face for a couple of seconds, and then a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “It can be any color you want it to be,” he said with a naughty-boy twinkle in his eyes.
    “You are just too charming, Mr. Marchetti,” she whispered, completely taken in by him but not wanting him to know it. “But how do I know if any of what you’ve told me is true?”
    He looked at her for several seconds, pulled out his wallet, and showed her his driver’s license. He pointed to the name on the card. “See? Richard Marchetti. 1506 West Taylor Street. The restaurant next door is Rosa’s. They all know me in there. In fact, the owners call me ‘son.’And here’s my birth date, December 1, 1920. Sagittarius.”
    Marie looked down at the cup of tea and methodically stirred it for several seconds. She laid the spoon in the saucer and